The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (6 page)

I squirmed as the liquid released into my bloodstream. Within seconds I felt the drug begin to take effect.

Definitely a sedative,
I thought as my eyelids drooped and my limbs grew heavy. I fought it for as long as I could, but it was futile.

The last thing I saw was the beagle licking one of the men’s fatigues. The image blurred until it was nothing more than circles of color floating in a sea of blue sky. And then it too faded away.

Darkness surrounded me.

For one terrifying second I thought,
This is it. I’m finally meeting my maker.
But then I blinked and turned my head, noticing that the darkness wasn’t complete. Streetlight filtered in through a nearby window. In the dim light I could make out a man sleeping in a bed. Next to him was an alarm clock that read 1:21 a.m.

I fell to my knees, a choked sob coming out of me.

Alive.
I was alive.

And judging from the time, I was on the other side of the earth.

Someone stirred across the room. “Who’s there?” Adrian’s voice was thick with sleep.

“Me.” He was smart; he’d figure it out.

A moment later a lamp clicked on, and I had to shield my eyes from the brightness. When I brought my hands away from my head, I gazed into green eyes.

“Ember?”
I could see relief written into his expression, though I wasn’t sure whether that was because I was okay, or because of all home intruders he could have, I was the least threatening.

Just when I thought I was getting spooky too.

“You wouldn’t believe the scene I just left,” I said, forcing a laugh out and shaking my head.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “You’re only supposed to travel once per—”

“Circadian rhythm,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I know. Something—something is wrong with me. This is the fourth time I’ve teleported today.” That might’ve come out a little desperate. I realized I was maybe looking at Adrian like he could fix me.

He frowned, his eyes growing distant. “Strange. I wonder if this is your body’s way of realigning itself,” he mused, stroking his lower lip.

Or I was broken.

My eyes strayed to Adrian’s exposed torso. Unlike Caden, he wasn’t muscular. He had the body of a scholar. Soft. Weak.

Not that I should throw stones. I’d noticed my own muscles had atrophied from disuse.

I wrapped my arms around myself, thankful that I’d teleported in jeans and a T-shirt.

Small favors.

“Are you okay for the moment?” he asked.

I sucked in my upper lip and shook my head. “I was sedated, and I have no idea where and when I’ll wake up next.”

At least it wasn’t euthanasia like I feared it might be.

Or was it? Did teleporters get one last act before curtain call? I’d only ever heard of us dying during our ten-minute stints. For all I knew, my body was in the process of shutting itself down.

That thought made me feel all sorts of warm and cozy.

Not.

I glanced around his room. “Is this the same place I visited you before I was spliced?”

He smothered a yawn. “Yep.”

I raised my eyebrows, saying nothing.

“What?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Just glad I didn’t run you out of another house.”

I didn’t mention that I was surprised he’d managed to stay in one location when, last I heard, the government had been after him. That seemed
. . .
fortuitous.

I snapped my fingers. “Speaking of, I think I have a GPS tracker on me.”

“On you?”
Adrian echoed, his eyes widening.

I tapped my shoulder. “I think they put it in sometime during . . .” During all those lost months.

Adrian swore. “As always, having you in my life causes problems.”

“Don’t get all nostalgic on me now,” I said, cracking a smile. It felt weird on my face, especially considering how not funny the situation was.

He rubbed his eyes, a sliver of a smile forming along his own lips. “I’m going to have to jam their GPS system.”

“Sounds fun. And highly illegal.” And like something that would help him but not me. I would still have to dig the thing out.

“Have you been able to return to the US since you left?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, unfortunately. I want to go back
. . .
eventually.”

In other words, he was still on the government’s blacklist, thanks to Richards.

Adrian pushed himself out of bed and grabbed a shirt hanging over a bedside chair. “Listen, Ember,” he said, sliding it on, “I know you don’t have much time, and a lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I’ve continued my father’s research. It would dizzy you, the things I know.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, my tone changing. Now I really found it fortuitous that Dane hadn’t been successful at neutralizing Adrian. “That’s why you know so much about what’s happening to me right now.”

A sly smile bloomed on Adrian’s face. “It’s good to hear sarcasm from you.”

When did he learn that sarcasm was a trait of mine? And why had it been so damn hard to be sarcastic? I placed a hand to my stomach. I feared that sometime during those ten months, I’d lost whatever it was that made me
. . .
me
.

“If you want my help, you have it,” he said. “I’m working abroad with an organization called Stonehawk Enterprises. It consists of a group of researchers, benefactors, and heads of state who are interested in your existence and want to help you and others like you.”

“Uh-huh.” Stonehawk Enterprises? It sounded like a manufacturer of military weapons. Big wonder what the weapon here might be. The Prometheus Project was proof that organized interest in teleporters usually benefited everyone but the teleporters themselves.

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do believe you want to help”—though perhaps only in order to get his name cleared—“and I’m sure there are others who would also benefit from helping me. But the scientists on the case? Methinks they’d just want to poke, prod, and probe me.”

“Awesome visual, Ember.”

I shrugged. “Your dirty mind imagined it, not mine.”

“Teleportation is a new field of scientific research that is being oppressed by politics and nationalism.”

“The world’s smallest violin is playing for you.” He could save me the sob story.

“Ember . . .” he said, shifting his weight. I could already tell he was going to try another approach. “The Project is never going to stop controlling your teleportations.”

That thought sobered me up. As soon as my imprint appeared, they were able to control my ability. I swiped my hands down my face at the thought. My dilemma wasn’t as simple as escape, like I’d assumed this whole time. The government could always, always control my ability. I’d never be free.

Adrian laid a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced up at him. “Stonehawk has the ability to remove the Project’s control.” He spoke slowly, letting every word sink in. “We can protect you if you’ll accept our help.”

I weighed his words, not wholly believing them. Things that sounded too good to be true almost always were. But even the possibility
. . .
It was worth the risk, especially considering my other dismal options. That, and I trusted Adrian enough to have passed along his name to my father. I hoped that was the right decision. Caden had already duped me, and I’d trusted him implicitly.

You still do,
a small voice whispered. Even if I was pissed at him for betraying me in some small way. He was probably hurt that I’d leave without him
. . .
and maybe he was angry that I’d beaten up Desiree. Were they still friends? Were they more than friends? My head began to pound as jealousy whipped through me.

I rubbed my head. I had no right to feel this way. Caden had ten months to move on with his life. Hell, I didn’t even know at this point whether we were still dating. Resurrection didn’t come with an etiquette book, and now was really not the time to psychoanalyze my current relationship with him.

“Ember?”

Adrian snapped me back to the present.

“I’m interested in what you’re saying. Hesitant but interested.” I brushed past him and grabbed a pen and a notepad from the nightstand next to his bed. I scribbled down my parents’ personal information.

I ripped the sheet of paper off the pad and handed it to him. “I’ve already told them about you, but they know essentially nothing about what’s going on. My guess is that the Project’s stonewalled them up until now.”

I had to fist my hands to keep from snatching the note back. Instinct screamed at me that this was a bad idea. I’d survived my first eighteen years of life by trusting no one. That was how I’d learned to get by.

Now it seemed that if I wanted to survive, I’d need to blindly trust people with ambiguous motives.

“I’ll get in touch with them,” Adrian said, looking up from the paper.

“Please be careful,” I said, staring at the note. “If my parents get hurt because of me . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Wouldn’t consider that.

“I’ll be careful with them,” Adrian said.

Whether it was his words or his inflection, he made me tear up.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Of course,” he said. “We’ll arrange an escape for you as soon we know where the Project’s holding you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You can do that?”

He gave me a noncommittal shrug, which had me thinking he wasn’t at liberty to discuss this in great detail. “A large part of it will depend on you.”

“So I’ll escape, and you’ll provide assistance,” I clarified.

“Something like that.”

I stared down at my hands. “Then you’ll need to provide escape for two.”

“Two?” He sounded baffled.

I nodded. “There’s another teleporter.” I looked up. “I’m not leaving without him.” Even if the bastard managed to capture me twice.

Somehow Adrian knew exactly what Caden meant to me. His body tensed and his expression closed off, almost as though he was threatened by this. The idea was all kinds of strange.

“How can you be sure he’ll want to—”

“I saw him fifteen minutes ago,” I said. “Trust me, he’s in.”

Adrian’s mouth opened and closed. “This will be much more difficult to coordinate.” He sounded
. . .
miffed.

“Then we’ll find you on our own.”

I could see Adrian struggling to rein in his emotions. That only piqued my curiosity—I wasn’t aware that there were emotions concerning me that Adrian needed to rein in.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

I glanced at Adrian’s alarm clock—1:30 a.m.

Less than a minute left before I lost consciousness. And I didn’t know when—or if—I’d wake up.

I cleared my throat. “I guess we’ll figure out logistics the next time I see you?”

Adrian nodded slowly, taking in my expression. Something gave me away. “You okay?” he asked, eyeing me.

I closed my eyes. “I’m fine.” I’d be fine, come what may.

I sensed more than heard Adrian step forward. Cool fingers brushed my cheek. “You’re not going to die,” Adrian murmured.

“It doesn’t matter. Either way, I’ll still be in hell.”

By the time Caden woke up in the cold hospital wing of the facility, it was three in the morning.

He pushed himself onto his forearms, blinking against the fluorescent lights that shuddered on as soon as they detected motion.

Worry pooled low in his stomach, and for a moment he couldn’t place it. He ran a hand over his jaw, trying to recall what caused it.

Then the previous day came flooding back to him. He swore loudly and stood, grabbing his neatly folded jeans, ignoring the shirt and boxers that also awaited him. Sliding the jeans on, he jogged out of the room and headed for the one place where he’d find answers.

“You’re a fucking liar!” Caden shouted right before he stormed into Richards’s office. Or tried to. The door was locked, and no light shone from between the cracks.

Obviously, fucktard. It’s the middle of the night.

Dane would be at home, fast asleep. Without a care in the Goddamn world because he didn’t have to worry about losing someone he loved on a daily basis.